"I am not hard.... I only tell you the bare truth to save you pain."
"You can't save me pain. Why do you throw me these mouldy crusts of old sayings? I offer you the best of me.... Don't you even think me worth a word out of your heart?"
Sophy paused. Her heart gushed pity—and regret.
"Oh, my dear...." she said lamentably, looking up at him with frank pain. "Why do you want to make it so hard for us both?"
"Then ... it is hard ... a little ... for you, too? I mean ... it hurts you to hurt me so?"
"Yes, yes, it hurts me! Do you think I am made of stone? Do you think I like seeing you suffer?"
"Then...." his throat closed on the words he wanted to say. He was ignominiously near to tears. Chokily he got it out:
"Then ... don't send me away ... just because ... I love you. Let me stay near you.... It can't hurt you ... and it's life to me."
"No, no. That would be horribly wrong of me—utterly, hatefully selfish."
He caught at this.